


Where Green Could Grow

by Captains_Orders



Series: Queen of Crows [3]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captains_Orders/pseuds/Captains_Orders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She dreams of a green long gone and people long dead, and it is hard to hope that there could be green again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Green Could Grow

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know how this drabble started it just kind of happened and it's a bit all over the place.  
> I just keep finding myself falling deeper and deeper in love with the Vuvalini and The Valkyrie and can't help drabbling.

Sometimes she still dreams of the green, the soft rustle of leaves, the sweet smell of the earth, and the cool feel of the grass. On rare cruel occasions Furiosa is there, forever a child in her mind, her long hair and fierce eyes the only features she remembers clearly. The little fury is a ghost that haunts the furthest edges of her mind, fading in and out like a mirage of the waste. Mostly the dreams are good in the cruelest way, so crisp and perfect she almost forgets the Green Place is gone upon waking. Her memories are fond, and it’s hard not to dwell on them when the world has become so cruel. She thinks of Quick often, when the days are particularly harsh, of quiet nights spent under the stars with her soft whispers in her ear. Quick had been her first in many things, her first friend and so much more. A first kiss after a scouting run under the shade of her favorite tree, soft and sweet as the fruit they used to grow, her first taste of pleasure under a starry sky with nothing but soft sighs and a gentle breeze. Losing Quick had been hard; she lost her friend, her lover, what grounded her when her babe passed, when the green began to die. The good times are clear as the harsh memory of the end, lurks behind every thought of the woman who loved the green and growing things and thought there was hope in everything. Hope is a frail thought now, one she cannot grasp but The Keeper shows with every seed she plants in dead earth. She wonders of anything will take in the sand as her people wander the wastes in an ever repeating ark around their old home, unable to leave it too far behind. 

She takes first watch when they make camp for the night, Keeper soon joining her on her perch at the top of a dune.

“How are you feeling?” The old woman asks as she casually checks her rifle. Valkyrie has heard her ask enough to notice the veiled concern.

“No pain, no fever. It’s been good for the past five days.” It’s true, and the best reply she’s had for the question in far too many days. Keeper hums her approval and lays her rifle across her lap. 

“Be better when I have more herbs.” She mutters and the bitterness leaks through on every word. Keeper had been a gardener in the green, reveled and excelled with growing things and all that could be coaxed from the earth. The death of the green had been particularly hard for her, and she guarded her bag of seeds, remnants of home, with a mother’s loving care. She grasps the older woman’s shoulder and squeezes gently in her best offer of comfort.

“Where will they grow?”

“There’s bound to be green somewhere, won’t ever see if we stay here.”

“There’s salt or sand, either way there’s no green.”

“But there could be.” There's such conviction behind it it’s hard not to believe, but Valkyrie has faith in nothing but the cruelty of the waste. So she heaves a long sigh and shifts her rifle in her hands, suddenly restless. The wind picks up, sharp and almost chill. Dark hair is in her eyes and her heart aches. When Quick died she let her hair grow long and wild like hers had been, and it is hard. Keeper’s bony fingers brush the strands back from her face, stroke her cheek with that mother’s smile and the pain fades just enough. Valkyrie breathes in the crisp air, steadies herself, and nods.

“There could be green.” Somewhere far away there could be green and hope. And if there is green, there is a part of her that dares hope that it is where the little fury dwells, in a safe place that cannot be touched by the world.


End file.
